


Wishing Well

by Thelittlescrimshaw



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Pining, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, canonverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-02-06 13:58:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12819012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thelittlescrimshaw/pseuds/Thelittlescrimshaw
Summary: Soulmates were rare enough that Rey thought they were a myth. Now, she only thinks they're inconvenient. Reylo.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all!  
> This fic had a working title of "Cliches abound" and that's what it is: an ultimately feel-good fic for the weeks leading up to TLJ. In a rare fashion, I have the entirety of this story outlined and 50% of it written...so you can expect weekly updates :-) 
> 
> In this universe, soul bonds are a thing, but they're rare enough that most people don't even count on having them. Rey, of course, is less-than-pleased to discover that Kylo Ren is her soulmate. 
> 
> Title inspired by "Wishing Well" by Airborne Toxic Event

The chains that bind his wrists are uncomfortable, but Kylo Ren has endured worse. He sits in the ship’s brig, legs outstretched before him, bound hands in his lap. His veins are filled with a drug that suppresses his connection to the Force, his body broken and bleeding.

He has been caught. He has failed. 

His eyes bore holes into the wall before him as he waits.

If it is death they will give him, so be it. After a lifetime, he is done fighting.

* * *

They arrive in the dead of night. He is surrounded by a dozen armed guards that escort him out of the ship and into the hangar of a satellite base. With his connection to the Force diminished, Kylo Ren is lightheaded, klutzy. He does his best to not show it. When he stumbles, he lets them think the shackles on his feet tripped him.

There are half a dozen people in the hangar when they bring him in; among them, he recognizes his mother. He lets his gaze pass over her, unfeeling, impassive. She is as good as a stranger to him now. 

To her credit, she does not waver. He sees her talking to a woman at her side, but he cannot hear what they say. 

He looks over the group. His capture must’ve been secret then. It had taken the Resistance three days to decide what to do with him; he’d overheard many a long, arduous call debating the next course of action. The crowd starts mumbling amongst itself, discussing his fate.  _ As if it were up to them. _

As far as he’s concerned, a quick trial and prompt execution will suit him nicely. 

He rakes his gaze over the crowd, stopping when he sees her. The scavenger girl. Their gazes lock, and all the color drains from her face. 

His lips are already curling into a sneer, but then - 

He feels it, a burning in his chest, a sharp pain between his shoulder blades. His blood roars in his ears, and the rest of the world disappears - 

He’s being prodded with a butt of a blaster by one of the guards.  _ “Move. Now.” _ He ignores it, even as he is forced away on leaden feet. He can feel the soul bond snapping into place, can feel his chest tighten, feel the urge to see her again. He glances over his shoulder at the place she had been, but she’s gone. 

He is still processing it, even as they strip-search him for the third time in as many days. He can hear the mumblings of the prison guards when they take in the fresh soul-mark between his shoulder blades. He grins to himself at the perversion of the situation: they get to see it before he does. Undoubtedly, these people  _ know _ his bonded. They know her name. She probably hasn’t tried to kill  _ them.  _

And the the situation finally clicks, and Kylo Ren cannot help himself: he laughs.

* * *

Hours later, Leia  arrives, accompanied by a middle aged woman with pale pink hair. Their faces are unreadable, their shoulders straight. He wonders how long his mother had spent composing herself.

“So,” the woman says, “who is it?” 

The cell is small, with nowhere to avoid scrutiny. He is sitting on his cot; he lifts his head to look at her, but does not bother getting up. “Who is what?” 

“Who,” the woman said, clearly annoyed, “Did you bond with?” 

Kylo Ren shrugs. He sees no reason to lie, but he sees no reason to comply, either. “What does it matter? I’m on death row as it is, and those bonds - they mean nothing. Isn’t that right, Leia?” And he swings his gaze to her, a cruel smile playing on his lips. He wonders if she remembers when she told him that, when he was twelve and angry that his father, his mother’s soul mate, had left yet again. 

She doesn’t so much as blink. “They saw your mark when they searched you. I’d rather not have more blood on my hands as it is.” 

He’d been hoping to get a rise out of her. “Couldn’t tell you. Don’t know her name.”

The woman snapped, “How can you not know the name of your bonded?”  

It is strange that he doesn’t know her name, stranger still that the bond didn’t snap into place the first few times he’d seen her, when he’d been in her head - when she’d reciprocated the invasion. He’d been too distracted by the strength of her will to pay attention to her identity. 

He understood their desire for intervention. The court was likely to sentence him to execution, and should he die before their bond was completed, the girl would likely be worse for wear, consumed by grief she did not want or could not control. There were legends of what happened when an uncompleted bond was shattered - bereft lovers driven to insanity or suicide. No doubt Leia wouldn’t want that for the girl. 

Not that it was his problem.

But still, he says, “She was in the crowd when I arrived. Brown hair. Didn’t exactly have time to chat.”

Leia’s mouth becomes a thin line. With a glance at her companion, she says, “Thank you for your cooperation.” 

They leave. Kylo Ren lies back down, and shuts his eyes, he replays his interactions with the girl in his mind: her fear in the forest, her anger on his ship, her desire to flee. He remembers the hurt that flashed across her features when he’d called her a scavenger. 

He remembers the sadistic pleasure on her face when she struck him down in that final battle in the snow. 

Perhaps they will spare his life in order not to doom hers. She is powerful, after all, and with proper training will undoubtedly be an asset. 

A pity. He had quite been looking forward to death. 

* * *

Rey scrubs at her wrist, as if that will make the coin-sized, intricate mark disappear. The lights in her bathroom are harsh, making her skin look paler - and the mark that much more permanent in comparison.

_ It just has to be him _ , she thought, a black pit of disgust coiling in her gut.  Soul bonds were rare, rare enough that she’d never even entertained the idea of having one. Anybody else, and she’d have made do, but  _ Kylo Ren _ ?

There’s a knock at her door. She steadies herself, takes several deep breaths before answering. 

General Organa is at her door, an unreadable expression on her face. Rey swallows. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, enveloping Rey in a hug. 

Rey cannot help the tears that leak from her eyes. She sobs into Leia’s robes, the full weight of it all crashing around her. 

* * *

The girl visits him in the early hours of the morning. He can hear her footsteps, hears her murmur something to his guards. They let her pass.

He wonders if she manipulated them the way she’d manipulated the Stormtroopers on his ship. He doesn’t doubt that she would. 

She stands in front of the cell, the dimmed light illuminating her from the back. “Make it disappear,” she says by way of greeting. Her voice is strained. He wonders if she’d been crying over this. He wonders if she can feel the tug, the instinctual yearning. 

He does not blame her for wanting the bond destroyed. “If only,” he says. His voice is raspy from disuse. 

“I know you can,” she grits. “I - just take it away. Break it. I don’t want this.” 

Perhaps it’s the bond, perhaps that this is the only true conversation he’s had in days, but he can feel the desire to talk back bubble up, every so slightly. He looks up at her. “You break it.” 

“I’ve tried.”

He has no doubt that she’d cut off her own foot if it would make the bond disappear. He leans back on his cot, stretches his legs out in front of him. “I can’t help you. You know they’re rarely broken. The tales of insanity are true. Good luck, once they execute me.” 

Her words come as a surprise: “They won’t. For my sake.” 

The second the words leave her mouth she looks like she regrets them, her face shocked. Had she less composure, Kylo could imagine her slapping her hands over her mouth. But she doesn’t, merely stands there in shameful silence. 

He mulls over the thought. “Interesting. For my sake, then, I should keep it unbroken. You are my tie to living, after all.” A sadistic smirk plays at his lips. She glares at him. 

“I’m going to break this,” she spits, “and when I do, I’ll see that you rot.”

“Good luck,” he calls after her retreating form. Much as he hates to see her, he is loathe to watch her go. 

* * *

_ Cooperation. _

Kylo hates the word, has grown to loathe it with his entire being. The Resistance will spare his life for his  _ cooperation, _ but he knows better. They don’t want their little asset to perish with him. 

He keeps his features stoic as his the trial comes to a close. He has pled guilty to the kangaroo court; the Council has called for his cooperation.  _ Information,  _ they want, because that was the real currency. 

He can tell that there are many who are displeased that he has escaped execution. He wonders if they know why. They’ll likely presume it’s because he’s the General’s son, but Leia had put on a hard front, barely even looking at him. 

It does not bother him. He does not care.

* * *

He blinks his eyes open, only to discover that they’ve drugged him more. His brain feel stupid and slow, his limbs heavy. He hates this,  _ hates  _ how his connection with the Force is dulled. The cot creaks as he sits up and cracks his neck. When he looks up, he sees her: wiry and wild, hair pulled back, eyes murderous.

Even now, she still would see him dead. 

“Good. You’re up.”  She says. “I’m in charge of you now.” 

His mind is slow to process it. “What?”

“Since you and I have this -” she made a gesture “empathetic connection, if I die, you die. Somehow they think that you’ll be less likely to kill me.” She narrows her eyes, as if she doesn't believe it. 

“And how is this supposed to work?” he says, mostly for the sake of arguing. Maybe it’s the bond, maybe it’s the conversation, but he feels more energized now, less groggy. “Why not keep me locked up? Why have  _ you _ \- a  _ scavenger _ \- deliver the message?” he makes sure to pack as much contempt into the word as he could, relishes in the way she exhales sharply, as if deliberately ignoring him.  

“They think you’ll cooperate more with me. They also don’t know how deep the...connection goes.” She says the words as if they are ash on her tongue, as if she cannot bear to acknowledge her bond to him. “They believe keeping you alive and well is in my best interest. You’ll be fitted with a chip. If you’re more than fifty feet away from me, it will trigger the release of a neurotoxin. You’ll be paralyzed until you’re given the antidote.” 

“Won’t it paralyze you as well? Or,” he gives her a small smile, “would you endure it just to see me suffer?” 

She shrugs. “As far as I’m concerned they can beat you within an inch of your life. But they won’t, because they have  _ standards _ .”

He outright laughs at her misplaced faith.  _ So naive. _  “Girl,” he stands, approaches the bars of his cell, getting closer with every word, “you have no  _ idea _ what your precious Resistance has done. Don’t go putting them on a pedestal until you know what you’re dealing with.” 

The only thing separating them are the durasteel bars of his cell and a foot of space, but she isn’t cowed. “I’m going to look into breaking it.” She steps closer too. “Maker knows neither of us wants it. And don’t go lecturing  _ me _ on putting people on pedestals. I know what you’ve done.” 

She’s getting under his skin and she knows it.  Kylo Ren grit his teeth and ignores the jab. They’re nearly toe-to-toe now; she has to look up to meet his eyes. She continues, “They’ll fit me with my tracker tomorrow. Until then, try to be less insufferable.” She turns to leave, and something inside of him lurches as she goes.

“Wait.” 

She turns to him, arching an eyebrow. 

“They never told me your name.”

She pauses a moment, then says, “Good.” 

Her boots echo on the floor as she stalks out, and Kylo Ren can’t help but feel a pang inside of him at the rejection.

* * *

So it was settled: Kylo Ren would be drugged daily to suppress his Force abilities chipped with a tracking device that would release a neurotoxin that would paralyze him should he be any more than fifty feet away from Rey.

Rey was fitted with a bracelet on her left wrist, one that could only be taken off with a code that even she wasn’t privy to. Were she to leave the base - or want more than an iota of privacy - she’d have to get special access to transfer responsibility of Kylo to someone else. Luckily enough, they were on a remote base, and Kylo’s capture had been kept mostly  _ sub rosa. _ Two dozen people knew of his capture, less still of the current arrangement. As far as most were concerned, he would just be another new recruit. 

Rey sits on one of the benches as she waits for Kylo Ren to be fitted with his chip, idly running a finger over the mark on her wrist. It was an intricate mandala, no bigger than a coin. She’d have to start wearing her arm guards again to cover it up. I dly, Rey wonders if the rest of the Resistance knew about  _ this _ specific arrangement. She doubts that they’d be too happy to hear any of it. 

_ To be fair, _ she muses,  _ I don’t think they know what he looks like. He always wore that mask. _

One of the nurses interrupts her thoughts. “Rey? I have your antidote.” His voice was clipped, professional, as he handed Rey several vials of a clear liquid. 

“So, about the neurotoxin,” Rey says,“What will it do to  _ me?” _

He grimaces. “Not ideal, eh? It shouldn’t affect you. Still though, you’ll have the antidote, just to be safe. You know, the bonds are so rare, they haven’t been studied…” 

He trails off when Kylo appears, still in shackles. His black robes had been replaced with black pants, a white shirt, and a navy blue jacket. To the casual observer, he looked like another member of the Resistance. 

He caught her eye, a smirk tugging at his mouth. It took everything inside of her not to outwardly snarl. 

“Let’s get going then,” she said. His wrists were still bound. One of his guards handed her the key. 

The walk to his quarters was silent. He was in the rooms just next to hers. No matter where they were standing inside those rooms, they would be within fifty feet of each other. The very thought of it made Rey’s skin crawl. 

“This is where you’ll be staying,” she says when they arrive at his quarters. “My room is adjacent, so keep quiet.” She places her hand on the scanner and steps inside the opened doors.

He arches an eyebrow, as if to say,  _ “do you think me loud?” _ but she ignores it. “If you need to leave, you are to contact me or whomever I appoint as custodian in my absence. Fifty feet. If that’s it…” Rey makes a gesture at the room. It’s bare - rid of any objects he could potentially use as a weapon. All the furniture was wooden; not a single scrap of metal was in the suite. Even the drawstrings on the sleeping pants they provided had been removed. The desk was empty, but he did have a window. 

“The room is furnished. Have at it.” 

She turns to leave. He clears his throat, holds out his still-shackled wrists, gives her a sardonic smirk. 

“...right,” she mutters, taking the key out of her pocket. She has to stand far too close for comfort to unlock the cuffs. Once they are unlocked, he grabs her wrist in his hand, the shackles dropping to the floor. Rey makes to yank her arm away but even without the Force, he is strong. 

She ignores the chills that go up her spine when he sweeps his thumb over the mark on the underside of her wrist. She pretends she doesn’t hear his breath catch in his throat, or notice the way his eyes bore into hers when he looks up at her. 

“I thought you’d cover it up.” 

Rey opens her mouth to tell him she has arm guards, she wears gloves, but she doesn’t want to justify her actions to him, doesn’t want to dignify him with a response. She snatches her hand away and stalks out, leaving the shackles behind.

And if her heart was hammering in her throat the entire time, well. That wasn’t her problem. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, the response to this was overwhelming. Thank you all <3
> 
> SEVEN DAYS TO TLJ, WHOO!!  
> This was super fun to write ;3

**CHAPTER TWO**

She does not come by the next morning, and he loathes how he’s put off by it. The bond has created an artificial craving for her company, has him left feeling hollow when she’s not around. 

Kylo Ren lies on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He has barely touched the breakfast that was delivered by a service droid that morning. He suspects that along with the weekly injections he’s receiving, the Force-suppressing drug is also in his food. Although he has no formal escape plan yet- and really, why would he bother? What was the point? - he figures if he can keep his senses sharp, it will be for the best. 

The room they’ve put him in is standard: single bed with white sheets, a dresser filled with basic navy blue and black clothes that fit him, a nightstand with a lamp. A door to his right led to the ‘fresher. Above his bed were two windows that offered him a view of the forest and fields that surrounded the base. 

Prettier than the prison he’d been in, he supposes, but it he had merely traded one cage for another. 

A knock on his door. His heart leaps into his throat - maybe it is the girl - and he immediately stops himself. Bond or no bond, he will  _ not _ entertain any notion of affection for her - she was nothing but a thorn in his side since he’d met her on Takodana.

He opens the door, and he cannot keep the surprise from his face when Admiral Holdo is on the other side. She’s alone, and he can see on her wrist the bracelet that the scavenger girl had worn. 

“No guards?” he asks, crossing his arms, doing his best to mask his disappointment. 

The Admiral arches an elegant eyebrow. “Why would I need them? Come. Time to earn your keep.” 

And she has a point, and he  _ hates it. _ He - the ex-First Knight of Ren- has been completely defanged.  She leads him down the hall, and brings him to a room that is clearly a war council. There are half a dozen people there, all looking at him with expressions of thinly-masked disdain. 

His mother is absent. 

He sits down, and the war council begins. 

* * *

When the meeting is over, Admiral Holdo dismisses the Council; Kylo Ren remains, waiting for her instructions. As if on cue, the girl slips into the room, shuts the door behind her.

“Good morning,” the Admiral greets.The bracelet transfers from her wrist to the girl’s, the code used to unlock it too quick for Kylo to catch. 

They make small talk, then the girl turns to him. Her hair is damp, curling at the edges - she must’ve just gotten out of the ‘fresher. “Come on. We’re going to the library archives.” There’s a glint in her eye that dares him to argue, to antagonize her, but he doesn’t take the bait. 

Kylo takes his time getting up, just to irritate her. “And where were you this morning?” 

“On a run, not that it’s any of your business.” She doesn’t look at him when she responds, and he follows her the rest of the way in silence. 

The library on base is a combination of the remains from the Galactic Archives and Library of the Republic. He sits at a table, watches as she peruses the shelves. Sooner rather than later, he predicts, she’ll get frustrated - he doubts there is much literature on soul bonds, even less on how to break them. 

She moves with purpose, going deeper into the archives. He gets up and trials behind her, wondering how the Resistance had uncovered the relics. He wondered if they had a proper archiving system. It crossed his mind to suggest to the girl that she search the archives  _ before _ perusing the shelves aimlessly, but he refrained. He saw no reason to make her life easier. 

He’s so caught up in his own thoughts that he nearly trips over her when she comes to a stop. He braces a hand on her shoulder on reflex and immediately regrets it. 

She whirls, teeth bared. “Don’t  _ touch _ me.” 

He raises his hands in front of him and takes a step back. “Wouldn’t dream of it, scavenger.” 

If she was insulted, she didn’t show it. Instead she turned her attention to the shelves of datacrons.“One of these is bound to have  _ something. _ ”

Kylo Ren shrugs, doesn’t tell her that most of the useful datacrons were destroyed decades ago, and instead takes a seat at one of the tables. A few holobooks are scattered around him; idly, he picks one up. Deciding that reading would be better than watching her struggle to do her research, he delves into it and thoroughly ignores the girl’s frustrated attempts to break the bond. 

Half an hour later she sits at the table, several datacrons in her hands. She sets them on the table, frowning. “All of these mention soul bonds to one degree or another.” He refrains from pointing out that a mere mention won’t help her much, but he is in no mood to explain proper library research to someone from  _ Jakku _ . 

Among the datacrons, and suppressed as his connection to the Force is, he recognizes a holocron. Intrigued, he picks it up, feeling the heft of it in his hands. While he’s far from being able to open it, and he can’t help but wonder…

Would  _ she _ be able to get it open?

He can feel her gaze on him; she’s curious, but she doesn’t want to talk to him. He wonders if her pride or curiosity would win her over.

He’s not left waiting long, and her curiosity wins. “What is that?” 

He can’t help it; he smiles to himself. “A holocron. It’s a datacron that only be opened with the Force, and is probably your only hot lead.” He sets it down in the space between them - an unspoken challenge -  and grins at her wolfishly. “It’s a shame I’m too drugged to open it.” 

She narrows her eyes at him and snatches it from the table. “I’ll figure it out.” 

He snorts. “Good luck. They used to think that  _ nine _ was too old to start formal training. You’re probably a lost cause.” He knows it is a lie, knows that she  _ needs _ training, but he can’t resist needling her. 

“Still kicked your ass,” she mutters.

“Barely escaped with your life,” he reminds her. “How’s the traitor, anyway? Dead?” 

A muscle jumps in her jaw and her hands clench into fists, but she ignores him, pretends to be engrossed in a holobook. He clicks his tongue. “You name. You still haven’t told me it.” 

“What does it matter? I’m going to break the bond, and they’ll execute you, and then you won’t be my problem anymore.” 

He ignores the implicit threat, instead needling her further: “What should I call you? ‘Scavenger’ is getting old, and I don’t think you’d take kindly to ‘girl’ or ‘sand-rat’ - “

She stands so quickly that her chair nearly topples over, and without a word stalks away. Kylo watchers her leave, amused at her frustration - until he realizes what she’s doing. If she gets more than 50 feet away from him...

“Sonuva _ bitch, _ ” he growls, and chases after her.

* * *

As the weeks pass, Kylo grows restless.

He is not allowed to train, and his body is itching for it. He has spent the past two decades of his life committed to one exercise regime or another; he won’t allow himself to grow out of practice. They won’t trust him with sabers or weapons, but…

The girl goes for a run every morning before breakfast; typically, she transfers the bracelet to the Admiral, if he’s going to a Council meeting, or one of the security guards who has clearance. But maybe he can convince her to let him accompany her. 

It had been a long day of fruitless archival research. She is returning them to their rooms that night when he says, “Let me go for a run.” 

It’s half a demand, half a plea. He has some of his dignity left, but he’s knows he’ll drive himself crazy if he’s kept locked up. In the back of his mind, he wonders why he even cares - he’d been ready to die a the hand of his mother less than a month ago. Why did he want something this badly  _ now? _ It doesn’t matter why, he supposes; what matters is the wanting, the need to have that wanting fulfilled . 

She seems surprised and stumbles for an answer. He takes advantage of it, says, “At least when I was with the Su - with Snoke, he let me leave.” It’s the first that he’s mentioned Snoke since his Capture; the name tastes like Ash on his tongue. 

“You were no better than a hound on a tether,” she tells him, arms crossed, amber eyes burning into him.

He doesn’t argue. “So? Can I?” 

“If you can keep up,” she says at length, voice clipped. “Tomorrow morning. I’ll wake you.” 

Tomorrow morning comes, and he’s ready before she knocks on his door, dressed in training pants and a tank top. She arches an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. He follows her outside the base. It’s late spring, and the ground is still wet with dew. The sky is pink, birds are chirping - it’s almost too picturesque for him to handle. 

She stretches, leans down to touch her fingertips to her toes. He rocks on the balls of his feet and pretends not to stare. Even without the bond, even dressed in standard-issue training pants and tank top, he supposes that she’s attractive enough, in a typical way: fine features, slim build, enough curves to be enticing - but she’s nothing special.  _ Definitely _ not something worth staring at. 

When she’s done her stretching routine, she cracks her knuckles. “Well, then. Let’s go.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m waiting for you.” 

She spares him a baleful look. “Fifty feet,” she reminds him, then sets off. 

He keeps up with her easily enough at first - she’s pacing herself, clearly going for endurance over speed. Two miles in and he starts to feel the strain. She takes them into the forest on a dirt path, and starts to pull ahead. 

But he’ll be damned before he lags behind. He pushes through, never more than ten or so feet behind her. He doesn’t know the route she’s taking him on; with a passing thought, he wonders if she’s going to sprint ahead of him and let the neurotoxin do its work. 

He curses her under his breath when she leads them uphill. The path gets narrower, a sharp fall on either side.  _ Maybe she brought me here to push me off, _ he thinks. He could easily throw himself off the edge and make it look like a freak accident…

He sees it happening before he truly processes it: she trips, loses her balance, and is in danger of careening over the edge - 

* * *

One second, Rey’s falling, and the next Kylo Ren is hauling her up by the bicep and clutching her in his arms. Electricity runs through her veins at his touch, making the hair on her arms stand on edge. It is the same feeling she’d had when he bumped into her in the library, the not-quite-unpleasant thrill of energy that makes her heart pound in her ears.

She’s panting - they both are - and his touch lingers for a few seconds too long. 

“Sorry,” he says as he lets go, and she can’t tell if he’s apologizing for almost hugging her or for rescuing her, “the bond.” 

“Right,” she pants, trying not to wince as she puts weight on her right ankle. She rolled onto it when she tripped - she hopes it isn’t a sprain. With a glance over the edge at the rocky bottom of the gorge below, she says, half-joking, “I guess I’ll take you over a nasty fall.”

There’s a flash of surprise on his face, gone as quick as it appeared. “Thanks,” he says dryly, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. 

“I’m going to walk back,” she announces. They’re about two and a half miles out from the base and her ankle is already throbbing; there’s no way she’d be able to run back. 

He nods, and they begin the trek back. Rey is mindful of her footing, doing her best to keep her weight off her injured ankle without making the limp obvious. She’s endured worse, and once she’s back on base her ankle will be fixed in no time. She just wants to return with her dignity intact. She walks behind Kylo Ren on the narrow path, hoping he’ll chalk her lagging behind up to exhaustion. 

Once the path widens, he turns around and catches her limping. “Are you hurt?” 

“I’m fine,” she tells him. “Let’s keep going.” 

He shrugs. “If you can hop up and down on your right foot, I’ll believe you.” 

Rey spares him a baleful look. She wants to chuck a rock at his face, but she settles for grinding her teeth in frustration. “So what? Why does it matter to you if I twisted my ankle? It’s not a big deal -”

“If we return - from the  _ first time I’m taken off base -  _ and you’re hurt...that’s not going to look good.” 

“It’s just a twisted ankle, and I don’t care if you look good.” 

He glares at her. “We don’t know how empathetic this bond is,” he counters. “If you screw up the bones in  _ your _ foot, that might screw up  _ mine _ . I’m not taking that chance to spare your pride.” He crouches down and gives her a pointed look. “Hop on.” 

Rey can hardly process the incredulity of the situation. “You have  _ got _ to be kidding me.”

He snorts. “You’re too short for me to help you walk normally. Just do it.” 

_ “No. _ ” 

He stands up, shrugs. “Suit yourself.” 

Rey barely has a second to react before he grabs her by her middle and slings her over his shoulder. 

“Fuck  _ you, _ ” she snarls. His grip on her is ironclad. Her anger makes it easier to ignore the jolts of electricity that go through her when she touches the skin of his bare shoulders. She kicks out, trying to worm away, but he’s huge - and his grip on her is ironclad. It’s useless. 

“Ouch -  _ brat, _ I’m trying to  _ help _ you!” 

Rey lashes out once more, feeling a rush of energy pulse through her, causing - against all odds - Kylo Ren to fall to his feet and drop her. She yelps when she lands on her bad ankle, tears stinging her eyes as pain shoots up her leg. 

“What,” he says, quiet rage coloring his tone, “the  _ fuck _ was that?” 

Rey doesn’t answer. She knows what it was - the Force, unbidden, accompanying her when her desperation was great. She hadn't’ been able to conjure it for weeks until now, hadn’t been able to so much as make a feather levitate. Somehow, she feels betrayed - why has it always been  _ Kylo Ren _ that made her able to access the Force? Why now?

Instead, she says, “I think I’ll take you up on that offer.” 

* * *

Kylo Ren carries her back to the base in silence, mulling over what had happened.

The Force - she had unwillingly used it to slam him to the ground. Effective, but sloppy. 

Dangerously sloppy. She’d need to get a hold on that - and soon.  _ Forget finding information on soul bonds - she needs to find information on how to keep the Force in check. _

It might be his imagination, but he thinks he can feel a small, painful pulsing in his right ankle. He chalks it up to psychosomatics - at least for now.  He sets her down at the entrance to the base. She scrambles off him, does her best to right herself with her injured ankle. He expects no thanks and she offers him none. 

He follows her as she limps to the medbay. The halls are mostly quiet - it’s early enough that most of the base is in the cafeteria for breakfast. Kylo is grateful for that - he’s hungry, and tired, his chest his bruised from where the girl had kicked him, and he’s in desperate need of a shower. They get to the medbay unmolested, and they’re waiting for a med droid to bring bacta patches when she speaks. 

“Rey.”

“What?”

“My name,” she tells him, and he can feel his heart leap into his throat. “Is Rey.” 

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DID YOU GUYS SEE TLJ YET BECAUSE I AM **SHOOK TO MY CORE**
> 
> Ahem. 
> 
> Thank you all for your kind words and comments<3 
> 
> There is some dialogue borrowed from TLJ in here - no spoilers at all, I promise, but a warning to those who want to see it completely blind :)

And so they settle into an uneasy coexistence. 

On the mornings where he wasn’t correcting Admiral Holdo’s intelligence - or being interrogated for intelligence of his own - Kylo accompanies Rey on her run, once her ankle has healed. Rey was surprised that he could keep up with her for the full length of it all; she didn’t think a man of his bulk would have a runner’s endurance or speed.  

Most days Rey spends repairing droids or in the library. She is acutely aware of her schedule now, suddenly conscious that almost all of her downtime is spent in the presence of Kylo Ren. The only place she is truly alone is her room, and even that is colored by the knowledge that there is only one wall of duracrete separating them.

More irritating, though, is the bond. It buzzes at the edges of her consciousness like a gnat; if she’s distracted, she might be able to forget about it, but more often than not she’s acutely aware of it. Of  _ him. _

Worst of all is how  _ easy _ being in his company has become; it’s getting harder and harder to hate him as the days go by. Still, she does her best to maintain a distance - and she makes sure he doesn’t touch her again, even by accident. 

It is a tenuous peace, but it is better than nothing.

She wonder when it will snap.

* * *

They’re in one of the lounges. Were there more personnel on base, Rey figures that it would be more occupied. However, it is almost always empty. It made for a nice change of scenery from the looming shelves and mute colors of the library. The lounge was made for comfort - well-worn couches and upholstered chairs, the rugs and walls all warm colors. It didn’t make Rey feel at home, not exactly, as much as it gave off an idea of what home should be.

She has a holofilm on a low volume in the background as she struggles with the holocron, frustration mounting. The Force had come so  _ easily _ to her the other day with Kylo, had come even  _ easier _ that first time she’d used it on Starkiller. Why was it eluding her now? Why couldn’t she tap into that - that  _ thing _ inside of of her - and use it to open this damn cube of  _ junk? _

“You’re not going to get it,” Kylo Ren told her from his position on the couch. He lay on his back; he was so tall that his feet hung over the edge. 

She lets out a huff of frustration but ignores him. After a few moments he shifts, cracks his knuckles; she doesn’t need to look up to know that his eyes are on her. 

“Please stop watching me.” 

He hums, but says nothing. Rey tries holding the holocron at a different angle; she stares at it; she shuts her eyes and runs a finger over its edges, and wait,  _ is that something - _

“How old are you?” 

His voice snaps her out of her concentration. “ _ What?” _ She looks up, glares at him, grits her teeth.

From across the room, Kylo shrugs. “We’re soulmates,” and Rey almost flinches at the word, “I figure I should know  _ something _ about you.” 

She opens her mouth to tell him that she’s going to get rid of the bond, but before she can get a word out he says, “I’ll even go first. I’m twenty-nine.” 

Rey huffs and spares him a look, then: “Twenty.” She doesn’t tell him that the only reason she knows is because Unkar Plutt had told her when she would come of age. She doesn’t tell him that she had  _ just _ turned twenty. The less he knows about her, the better. 

He mulls the information over. “I was ten when I started formal training.” 

Something rolls in Rey’s gut. She’d been doing her best to ignore this, ignore her jealousy, the desperate need for answers regarding the  _ why _ and  _ how _ of what he did. It made it all more bearable to pretend it doesn’t matter. 

But it  _ does. _ And all the hurt from the past month - all the pain from losing Han, the dread of seeing Finn half-dead, the fear of being bonded to him, the frustration of not being able to work the damn holocron - 

It all bubbles up, ugly and fast. 

“And how old were you when you betrayed him?” she snaps. “How old were you when you decided to turn to the Dark side? When you - when you -” she’s so upset that she can barely get it out. She’s on the brink of tears, she can feel it, and still she forges on: “Why did you hate your father?” 

“I didn’t hate him,” and the answer is surprisingly quick. He sits up, stands, and takes a step closer.

“Then why did you - “ she’s choking on her words now; a few tears fall. 

“Why did I what?” he says, and his voice is surprisingly soft. He takes a few more steps closer. “Go ahead, say it.” This close, Rey is reminded of the sheer power of him - looming over her, shoulders massive, arms filled with a monstrous strength that she’d felt before. She’s not scared, not really, but...

“Your father loved you,” and Rey is cursing herself as her eyes welled with tears, “he gave a damn about you - _ why did you kill him?” _

“Your parents threw you away like garbage,” he tells her - and oh, that strikes a nerve. Rey clenches her fists. 

“They  _ didn’t! _ ”

“They did,” he insists. “They sold you for drinking money. But you can’t stop needing them. It’s your greatest weakness. Looking for them everywhere - in Han Solo, and I’m sure you would have in Skywalker - “ 

And Rey - in a fit of rage, of hurt, of  _ hatred _ for the man before her - makes the holocron fly across the room, directly at his face. Kylo Ren dodges it, missing being hit by  _ inches _ , and the holocron embeds itself in the wall behind him. A crack forms in the floor at her feet; the table beside her shakes. 

Kylo Ren doesn’t seem phased. “You’ll need to get that under control.” 

“ _ Don’t _ change the subject! Murderous  _ snake - _ ” and she surprises herself when one of the chairs flies at him. He ducks easily. Like the holocron before it, it slams into the wall, breaking two of its legs on the way.

“You need a teacher,” he tells her,with a glance at the ruined chair. “If you don’t get a handle on that soon, you’re going to hurt a lot of people.” 

“Oh, and you would know?” she spits.

“I know,” he says, and Rey  _ hates _ how his voice is calm, “Because you and I are the same.” He takes two steps forward and grabs her wrist in his hand easily, and shoves up her sleeve before she can react. “This? Not a coincidence.” 

He smooths a thumb over the mandala on her wrist, and Rey can  _ feel _ him -

_ She sees a scared boy, afraid and alone… _

_...she sees a creature of darkness, whispering false promises to him… _

_...she sees a boy betrayed by his family, terrified, terrorized… _

_...the pain and regret, the influence of a monster, the self-hatred at killing his own father... _

_...she sees the dark tendrils in his mind, his soul, but beyond that… _

_ Light, and so much of it.  _

* * *

He smooths his thumb over the intricate design on the underside of her wrist, notes how the hair on her arms stand up at the action. She doesn’t wrench her wrist away like he had been expecting, not immediately.

She blinks, and looks at him, and there’s something in her face, something much different from the unadulterated hatred she had looked at him with just moments before. Tears are drying on her face, and for a second, she looks so young, and so vulnerable. 

She reminds him of himself. The two of them - they are the same on a fundamental level. He’d felt it when he’d tried to interrogate her, and he feels it now. Soul mates might be a bit of a stretch, but…

She swallows thickly, takes her wrist away with surprising gentleness, and backs away without taking her eyes off him.. 

For a moment, they are silent. Then: “They’ll never let you use the Force here.”

“I don’t need to.  _ You _ , however, need to learn to control it. They won’t take kindly to things breaking every time you’re upset.” He wants to tell her he knows from experience, but he refrains. He suspects that the soul bond caused her to feel something - see something, maybe - when he touched her mark. He wants to know, but…

He holds back. He’ll figure it out later, he’s sure of it. 

“I’m going to find Master Skywalker,” she tells him, eyes boring into his. “He’ll teach me.” 

“And in the meantime?” 

“I’ll be fine.” She doesn’t sound convinced. 

“This,” he says, and gestures at the wrecked chair, the damaged walls, “isn’t fine, Rey. But when you’re done making excuses,” he shrugs. “You’ll know where to find me.” 

* * *

Rey isn’t sure how to process what she saw; she doesn’t know if it was the Force that showed her that, like the vision she’d had on Takodana, or if it was the bond that made her see it…

So maybe Kylo Ren wasn’t as evil as she had thought. She can...she can be okay with that, she supposes. Not that it matters; she’s still going to break the bond. 

The next morning, she knocks on his door to collect him for their morning run. The weather is getting warmer - Rey has taken to wearing exercise shorts.

She takes them on the usual route, mercifully not tripping. When they finish, the sun is beating down in full force and she’s covered in sweat. Jakku had been a dry heat; this humidity, this level of sweat, wasn’t something she’d ever experienced before. Kylo isn’t much better - his hair is sticking to the nap of his neck, and the back of his shirt is soaked. 

He surprises her when he peels it off and reveals his own soul mark. 

His mark is the same size and shape as her own, placed right between his shoulder blades. It felt…almost too intimate, to see it. To be reminded of her unwilling part in this connection. 

She makes a point to walk in front of him the rest of the way to the base. 

* * *

He goes to the medbay for his weekly injection of Force-suppressing drugs. He hates it - hates all of this - but he finds that it’s all the more bearable.

He suspects that it’s because of Rey. 

Soul bond or not, he enjoys her company. 

He only wishes that she felt the same. 

* * *

Rey is lying in her bed, calm and half asleep, when she feels it - a sudden,  _ sharp _ , pain in her hand that jolts her awake and sends her blood pounding. Her hand is fine - no blood, no pain when she prods it - it doesn’t take her long to figure out where it’s coming from.  

She curses to herself and jumps out of bed, storming into Kylo’s room without knocking.

“What the  _ hell _ did you do _!” _

The door to his ‘fresher is open; he’s standing by the mirror, bloodied hand held over the sink, water pouring from the tap. His hair is wet; droplets of water sluice between his shoulders, down his back. He is naked, save the towel around his waist.  

“Have you  _ ever _ heard of knocking?” he growls, not turning around. A straight razor is on the floor of the fresher. From the reflection in the mirror, Rey can see that half his face is covered in foamy soap. 

“What did you  _ do?” _ Rey asked again, panic abating.

“Dropped the razor while shaving,” he mutters. “These drugs make me clumsy.” 

Rey swallows, frowns. “I - oh.” 

He turns off the water, faces to her. “Did you feel it?” 

Rey nods, suddenly embarrassed. Under his gaze, she’s acutely aware that she’s only wearing sleeping shorts and a flimsy tank top. She crosses her arms. “It woke me up.”  

“Ah. Guess the connection is more sympathetic than we’d thought.”

From here, she can see his scars - the one on his face actually extends to his collarbone; there’s another scar on his opposite shoulder, and a large one on his side - Rey figures that’s from where Chewie’s blaster had hit him. She’s also acutely aware of how  _ big  _ he is - his shoulders are massive, his chest and core thick with muscle, his hip bones peeking up above the towel...

He clears his throat, and Rey can feel her face redding. “Do you - do you need help?” she asks, trying to recover a  _ shred _ of dignity.  _ It’s the bond. Of course it is. _ “I have a kit in my room.” 

He glances at his hand, then back to her. “Yeah, I think I do.” 

Rey retrieves bacta and bandages from her room. She takes a moment to calm her nerves - it’s just Kylo Ren, she reminds herself. Just a half-naked Kylo Ren. He isn’t attractive, just muscular. Half the men on base were muscular.  _ She _ was muscular, for a woman. Muscles were nothing special.  _ He _ was nothing special.

She knocks this time, only entering when he answers, “Come in. I’m decent.” 

Rey scowls to herself -  _ of course he’s mocking you, this is  _ Kylo Ren  _ - _ and enters. He’s sitting on his bed, still sans shirt, but  _ \- thank the Maker - _ has pants on. His still-bleeding hand is held in a towel. 

“That’s going to stain,” Rey says. She hesitates a moment, and decides that perching on the bed next to him isn’t nearly as bad as kneeling before him. She sits, mindful to leave ample space between them, and uses antiseptic wipes to clear the blood away. The place between his thumb and forefinger is sliced, the wound long and deep. 

Rey winces. “How did you even  _ do _ this?” 

He averts his eyes. “Dropped the razor. Tried to catch it. Didn’t think it through.” 

Rey chuckles. “Wow. They must  _ really _ make you clumsy.” 

He rolls his eyes. Rey dabs bacta on the wound as carefully as she can, using light, quick strokes. She wants to avoid any other...soul bond vision, or whatever it had been that she’d seen when he brushed against her mark the other day.  “I’m just...surprised. It doesn’t hurt as much now - my hand, I mean.” 

“My pain tolerance is high,” he says. “But…”

Rey glances up at him. She wipes the vicious remains of bacta off her hands and gets the bandages from the kit. “What?”

“My guess is that...if one person dying in a soul bond means a bad outcome for the other, it would make sense. One is hurt, the other is made aware of it - but continuing to feel the pain would make it harder to rescue the injured one.” He glances to his hand, then back at her. “Not that this was life-threatening, but. You came running. The logic is sound.” 

And Rey pauses at that. She  _ had _ come running without a second thought, propelled by worry. Over  _ him. _

She clears her throat and sets to bandage his hand. “I suppose that makes sense.” 

His hands is massive, and there’s no way to avoid touching him. She keeps it quick and professional, ignoring the tingling of electricity when their skin touches. When she’s done, she fastens the bandages, and says, “I think that’s it.” 

She looks up at him; he’s looking at her intently, mouth half-open, expression open and waiting and  _ yearning. _ Something catches in her throat when she meets his eyes. She feels frozen in place, paralyzed by the gaze of the man before her. 

When she takes hers away, he blinks, and the spell is broken. 

“Thanks,” he says, and his voice sounds strained. Rey gathers the remains of the first aid kit and returns to her rooms. 

She doesn’t sleep easy that night. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like to chat more about Reylo goodness or Star Wars or fandom in general, you can find me at www.littlemanicmonday.tumblr.com!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kind words<3 I know updating has been slow, but that's because this is no longer the final chapter. The story's been extended quite a bit :)
> 
> Also, to any new reylos: welcome aboard! 
> 
> This one has been worked and re-worked for weeks; I've decided this is as good as it's gonna get. I've heavily drawn upon (read: bastardized) some KOTOR lore here, and oh god was it fun. A few TLJ spoilers, but I think it's safe to say that most of us have seen it by now.

Kylo watches her as she leaves, his mind whirling a parsec a minute.

He doesn't think she’d felt it, how easily he slipped into her mind.  _ But how…? _ His connection to the Force is still woefully suppressed; he can’t so much as levitate a  _ razor, _ let alone slip inside her mind. It wasn’t like that time on Starkiller, when he had a goal, when she’d been fighting tooth and nail to get him out. No, this was different; it had been warm, easy, almost pleasant. 

It is with equal parts terror and excitement that he realizes it must be their soul bond.

The notion terrified him. Jedi mind tricks, Skywalker had affectionately called them - were at best neutral, at worst torturous. He had never felt so…so…

He dares not let that thought continue, because it ended with  _ at home _ and he would  _ not _ let his mind go there, idly thinking of Rey and the future and - 

_ No _ . He has no future. Ben Solo is dead, and Kylo Ren is ready to die. It’s why he allowed himself to be capture in the first place. But he can’t die; if he dies then Rey....

He won’t do that to her. The thought of causing her any distress makes his stomach drop. And she - she is so  _ young. _ So different. No younger than his mother had been when she’d met his father - 

And  _ that _ is  even more dangerous territory. Nope.  _ No. _

With a defeated groan, Kylo Ren falls back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling, the pain in his hand reduced to a dull throbbing. It was a stupid mistake he’d made, trying to levitate a sharp object with his Force abilities suppressed. But for a moment there, he thought he’d had something, had tried to tug on that thread of a connection he’d felt. He saw the horrified look on her face though, at the blood. How visceral her worry had been.  _ She thought I’d try to... _

He banishes the thoughts. He doesn’t need her fussing. Nobody has fussed over him in a long, long time. Nobody needs to start now.

And yet his heart pounded when he thought of her touch.

* * *

It might be his imagination, but Rey is becoming less hostile to him.

Small things, at first: an absence of dirty looks, an acquiesce to his request that he be allowed to keep holobooks in his room. Soon, she begins to delegate some of her research tasks to him, going so far as to accept his advice on how to properly search the databanks. 

Even if she  _ does _ call him a “know it all prick” under her breath. 

They’ve been in the library most of the morning before Rey allowed him to take over. He’s sitting in front of the screen, Rey hovering over his shoulder.

He looks at her a moment, takes in the stiff posture, the tension in her jaw. “You know,” he says, tentative, “it might be better to star with older texts. See where talk of it firsts crops up.” He has an inkling of where it might occur, but…

“We’ll limit the search to right around Mandalorian Wars,” he says, and starts typing. 

She gives him a look, a silent question in her eye. He almost -  _ almost _ \- says something he’d regret, about her upbringing and education, before remembering her abandonment. Rey peers at the screen. “That’s - that’s  _ three thousand years ago. _ How do you expect --”

“Call it a hunch,” he mutters. “Just trust me.” 

She snorts, and he gets the feeling that she’d rather face a ranthar in single combat, but she remains silent as they wait for the system to load. 

He taps his fingers; he’d forgotten how frustrating it was to deal with slow computers. “It might take awhile. This system is three decades outdated. Why they haven’t updated their interface, I have no idea.” 

She gives a nod of agreement. “Seriously. I built a better system when I was fourteen. And I lived alone in the desert.” 

“Junkyard,” he corrects, and she almost smiles in humor.

But she hides it quickly, as if embarrassed, and leans her hip against the desk. Kylo watches her, weighs his next words. “Why are you so intent on getting rid of the bond, anyway?” 

She looks at him, incredulous. “I don’t want that sort of connection.” He does his best not to flinch at the unspoken  _ “with you.” _ But she continues, “Even if we weren’t on opposite side of a war, I’d get it destroyed. I don’t fancy having my life force - my  _ sanity _ \- tied to someone else’s. I’m my own person. Not one half of a bond.” Kylo isn’t sure if that softens the blow. 

He leans back, mulling her words over. “Never thought of it that way.” He’s saved from the rest of the conversation by the screen announcing that they had approximately 1422 results of “soul bonds” between 3900 BBY and 3940 BBY. Only a sixty year period...but based on the sheer amount of results, his hunch was right. 

Rey leans over him to scroll through through the touch screen. “Bastila Shan comes up a lot.” She shifts, and her arm grazes his shoulder. “Who was she?” 

He tries not to notice how she’s close enough that he can feel the heat coming off her body. He sits ramrod-straight, does his best not to shift. “Legendary Jedi from  the Galactic Republic. She famously had a Force bond with her fellow Jedi, Revan.” A tale told in storybooks, but a true tale nonetheless. He remembers the first time Luke had told him the epic story of the Mandalorian Wars and the Jedi Knights who turned the tide - 

-and promptly cuts off the thought. He clears his throat. “It’s a good place to start.”

She crosses her arms, and he does not -  _ does not _ \- miss her presence. “We don’t have a Force bond -”

“No,” he agrees. He turns to face her. “But as of now you have a holocron you can’t open and half a dozen holodiscs. Just say ‘thank you’ and start looking.” He stands, gestures for her to take a seat in front of the screen.

She mutters something that sounds a  _ lot _ like “insufferable prick” underneath her breath, but gives him a nod of gratitude and delves into her research. 

Kylo leaves her to it and for the sake of his sanity retreats to an armchair several feet away with a holobook on the history of Dathomir in hand. He’s content to sit in his chair and read about the planet and its people - anything to distract himself from his quickening pulse. It was the bond - it had to be - causing it. He knows this, and yet…

And yet he yearns to be close to her. Admitting it seems like a betrayal, like a perversion. He is an expert in self-denial, and yet the thought of depriving himself from her presence feels like the equivalent of cutting off his own hand. Certainly possible, but not at all advisable. 

After a long stretch of silence - a silence in which Kylo Ren does  _ not _ brood - Rey asks, “Do you think the Force is involved somehow?”

She’s looking at him - and Kylo gets the feeling that she’s been looking at him for some time - biting her lip, brow furrowed. As if she’s almost afraid of the answer. 

But he’s never been one to lie. “Yes. If only because I refuse to believe that there’s more than one ineffable power at work in the godsforsaken galaxy.” A corner of his mouth tugs up into a smile, and despite herself, Rey chuckles.

“I guess that’s fair.”  She turns her attention back to the screen, tapping her fingers against the desk. 

He realize he’s staring, and he almost doesn’t care. But he clears his throat, puts his holobook down, and says, “What do you know about the Force?” 

She shifts in her seat. “It’s a power that the Jedi have. It lets them read minds and fight better and,” she makes a gesture, “move stuff.” 

For a minute, he thinks she’s joking. He knows that she’s woefully untrained, but he’d witnessed her power firsthand. Surely she can’t be this dense?

Then it dawns on him: her experience with the Force was crammed into a twenty-four hour period, and she’d mimicked everything he’d done.  _ Gods. She’s less experienced than I thought. _ “That’s….wrong. The Force is a living thing that connects everything in the universe. Some are more sensitive to it than others. But it’s not a power you  _ have. _ It’s a thing you can feel.” 

It might be his imagination, but he thinks a blush rises on her cheeks. “Oh.” 

He leans back in his chair. “Tell me: were you looking within yourself when you tried to access the Force?” 

A tiny nod. 

“That was your first mistake. The Force exists outside of you. You need to reach out and feel it.”

“Good to know,” she says, and turns back to the screen. He goes to his holobook, and they sit in companionable silence until Rey decides that she’s hungry. 

On the way to the cafeteria, she says, “The only thing I’ve found so far is that the rumors of insanity are true.”

He hums in agreement. He’d seen it firsthand with one of the First Order officers. The poor bastard had met his soul-bonded - a Stormtrooper - hours before she shipped out for a battle, only for her to die. The officer’s meltdown had facilitated an unofficial poilcy.

“They are.” She shoots him a questioning glance, but she does not comment and he offers no more information. A silence stretches between them, until Rey says, “Leia didn’t...”

“Leia,” he says slowly, “Consummated her bond. She grieved, I’m sure. But Han Solo was a disappointment. I can’t imagine she was sad to see him go.”

“I,” Rey says, not looking at him, “am going to ignore everything you just said.” 

Honestly, he doesn’t blame her. 

* * *

After a long day of archival research and droid repair, Rey is nearly shaking from hunger. It’s not the hungriest she’s been - not even close - but after weeks of regular nutrition, she’s become used to eating on a schedule, and she reacts poorly when that schedule in interrupted. And as such, she doesn't’ bother taking her dinner from the cafeteria to her rooms; instead, she plunks her tray onto the nearest table and immediately tucks in.

She can feel Kylo’s eyes on her as he slides into the seat opposite her. She glances up, snaps, “ _ What?” _ before turning her attention back to her food. It’s a hearty stew tonight, with a side of fresh bread - not a single pre-packaged portion in sight. 

“Nothing,” he says mildly, and tucks into his own food.

And so this became another routine -  _ another insidious addition of Kylo Ren into your life, _ part of her whispers.  

It’s...different, to eat in the company of another person. To have a conversation over a meal. Not that Kylo Ren was much of a conversationalist - the most she’d heard him talk, aside from their arguments, was when he went off about the Mandalorian Wars. 

She hadn’t asked him more about soul bonds, not after their  _ last _ conversation. He hadn’t implied that the two of them should  _ consummate  _ anything - and gods, the thought of that makes her stomach lurch - but she has no desire to remotely broach that topic with him. If her choices were insanity or -  _ that _ \- with  _ him _ …

She doesn’t like thinking of that ultimatum.  _ Especially _ over dinner. 

“My offer still stands, you know,” he says, and she’s grateful that he’d jerked her out of her thoughts. 

Rey looks up, swallows the mouthful of bread. “Huh?”

He eyes her like she’s a nervous colt, as if he’s afraid to speak. “To train you.” When she doesn’t respond, he says, “You need it, Rey.”

There’s a sincerity in his face. Rey watches as he swallows, his mouth moving as if he’s biting the inside of his lip. She’d be lying if she said she hasn’t thought of it, but…

She sets down her fork and looks him in the eye. “Why do you think you can do a better job at training me than Luke Skywalker can?”

“Aside from the fact that they won’t let you off this base without me, and he’d try to kill me on sight?” His response is quick, cutting. “You’re strong. Stronger than you know. Skywalker will not tol - he won’t be able to properly train you.” 

“And you know this for certain?”

His eyes were hard; he didn’t answer. Rey narrows her eyes, remembering the light she’d sensed inside of him weeks ago. How could light like that give way to the dark side?   

Maybe… “Tell me why you turned.” 

He blinks, surprised, but then realizes what she’s getting at: answers, and maybe she’ll consider. He looks askance a moment, then: “Skywalker had sensed my power. It frightened him. One night, I woke to find him standing over my bed with his saber out. He tried to kill me. I brought the roof down on him. There was…a confrontation, with his other students. That was almost ten years ago.”

Rey watched his face, searching desperately for signs of a lie but finds none. Kylo’s expressions give him away at almost every turn; he is a terrible liar. 

“I don’t think Luke would have tried to kill you,” Rey says at length. His entire body tenses, his eyes flashing, hands clenched into fists. And Rey wants to know, wishes she could see what had happened in order to get the truth; she sees the hatred and the pain in those eyes, sees…

...she sees the memory. And she feels the darkness…

_ The darkness is suffocating and it tries to shove her out. Rey pushes it aside, and the scene plays out before her. _

_ The sound of an ignited saber. Ben wakes up, hurt and confused - the saber goes out, and a man - it must be Luke - is looking horrified, mouth opened as if to explain… _

_..but Ben’s already calling for his saber, bringing down the roof onto Luke... _

She binks, and the memory is gone. She feels the understanding fall into place, and when she looks at him there is pity in her eyes.

Across from her, Kylo looks murderous.

“Do not,” he snarls, “ _ Ever _ do that again. Or so help me, I will slit my own throat and let you suffer the madness.” For a moment the hatred drops and he’s looking at her with those same betrayed eyes, and Rey is struck with a pang of guilt. She doesn’t want him to hate her, not like this.

He rises, food only half-finished. “Take me to my rooms.  _ Now. _ ”

It’s the first true demand he’s made of her, and Rey - dumbstruck by what she’s seen and ashamed of her own transgressions - complies. The air between them is thick with tension as she escorts him back to his quarters. 

“Kylo,” she begins, “I’m sorry.” She almost reaches out to touch his shoulder, but pulls her hand back. 

He ignores her, shutting the door behind him and leaving Rey in the hallway. She swallows, and tries to pretend that the rejection didn't hurt. 

_ Had it really been that terrible? _

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Kylo, you moody Darth Darcy you...
> 
> Let me know what you think =)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kind words and support <3
> 
> New readers: welcome!
> 
> Old readers: Look! An Update!

Rey is ripped from dreams of thunderstorms and fury by a pounding at her door. 

“Just a minute,” she groans, opening her eyes and staring at her ceiling. Today of all days would be nice to sleep in; she’d gotten little rest. She’d spent most of the night tossing and turning, wondering what Kylo Ren could’ve done for Luke to try and kill him…

_ There has to be another explanation. There  _ has _ to be. _ But Rey doubts she’ll ever get one, not with the way Kylo looked at her yesterday...

Almost entirely on autopilot, Rey dresses herself with heavy limbs, and pulls her hair back into a ponytail as she opens the door.

Standing before her is Kylo Ren, wearing black workout shirt and pants. He crosses his arms. “Get dressed. We’re training.” His eyes are flinty, his full mouth pressed into a hard line.

Rey’s mouth hangs open in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to speak to her, let alone to show up on his own volition. She swallows.  “I’m sorry,  _ what?” _

He rolls his eyes. “Clearly your use of the Force needs to be refined. It’s high time somebody showed you how it works.” He lifts up his chin, as if daring her to argue. “So get yourself dressed.” 

Rey glances down at herself, acutely aware that she’s wearing only a flimsy camisole and sleeping shorts. She crosses her arms and quells the rising heat in her cheeks. “Who said -”

“ _ I’m _ saying. I don’t want a repeat incident of last night.” His eyes flash. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but your invasion was unintentional.” 

“Oh, nice to see you’re over that,” she retorts. 

He takes a step forward, lips curled. “Quit being a brat and take the training.”  He glances from her bare legs to her shoulders. Rey holds her ground, praying that he doesn’t notice the rising flush on her cheeks. “Get decent. Meet me in five.”

With that, he turns and leaves.

And Rey, grumbling to herself, is left to simmer in his wake.

* * *

Rey meets him in the hallway and follows him outside with surprisingly little argument. It is a clear day, warm without being stifling. Kylo leads them to the area off base that was just before the tree line, the grass interspaced with loose rocks and roots. He picks one of the rocks up, feelings its heft in his hand.  _ Perfect. _

“Consider yourself lucky,” Kylo Ren begins, “That my powers are suppressed.” Rey looks like she’s raring up to give a sarcastic retort, so he says, “Or I could have - very painfully - thrown you out of my mind. Invasions like that are not  _ pleasant. _ Not when you’re up against someone stronger than you.” 

She inclines her chin. “I beat you in the forest.” 

He snorts. “I’d just been shot with a  _ blaster. _ Hardly a fair fight.” He gives her a stare of his own. “I’ve been training for longer than you’ve been alive. The tradition is to start young,” he adds, at her incredulous look. 

Without warning, Kylo throws the stone in his hand at Rey, who catches it milliseconds before it would’ve hit her face. 

_ “What’s your problem!?” _ she seethes.  __

“Use the Force,” he says, unable to keep the shit-eating grin off his face. He feels vindicated, after the memories she’d drudged up. “Don’t stop it with your hands.”

She looks at the rock, then back at him. “You can’t seriously think I’m going to let you throw  _ rocks _ at me?” 

Rey is acting like his trainees always had - indignant and annoyed, always dumbfounded that Master Luke would approve of his methods - 

_ No. Don’t think about that. _ He pushes the thought from his mind. “Sit down.” 

“I -”

He cuts off her protest. “Sit.”

She glares at him but complies, crossing her legs. He crouches across from her. “Now. Breathe. And reach out.” 

Another baleful look, but then she shuts her eyes. She takes a deep breath, and after a few moments, a stillness overcomes her. 

“The Force,” he says, voice soft, “Is in  _ everything. _ Certain people - the Sith, the Jedi - are more sensitive to it than others. I suspect your sensitivity was what kept you alive on Jakku.”  

Her mouth twitches in distaste, but she doesn’t respond. He continues, “Can you feel it? What do you see?”

“Everything,” she says at length. “Life. Death. Cold. Warmth. I can feel the earthworms underground and the birds in the sky. The people in the Resistance. I see light. And dark -” she cuts herself off, opens her eyes. “I can’t feel you.” 

“I’m cut off from the Force,” he tells her. “That’s unsurprising. What else?” 

When she shuts her eyes and takes a breath, he picks up a stone. Smirking to himself, he lobs it at her. 

It’s swatted away as if by invisible hands. Rey opens her eyes and glares at him. “It didn’t hit you,” he reminds her, tossing another stone her way.

Like the other, it’s deflected - but this time, it flies in the direction of his head. Kylo ducks and it misses him by a hair. “Hey!”

She smirks. “It didn’t hit you.” 

“I can’t deflect it,” he grumbles. 

“Says the man who fought with a blaster wound.”

“Says the man,” he growls, “who doesn’t like being pelted with rocks.” He presses a hand to his side, remembering the pain. Remembering the anguish when he’d plunged his saber into Han Solo’s chest -

He grinds his teeth in frustration. Rey wouldn’t know - she’d have no idea the lasting effect she had when she rummaged through his head. He can’t blame her, not really. Better that she gets a hold on her powers now than do that again. 

“Your access to the Force,” he begins, “is rooted in self-preservation. Not surprising, given your childhood. But not helpful in a larger context. Reach out again.” 

“If you throw rocks at me again so help me -”

In response, Kylo chucks another rock her way. Rey waves a hand an it drops to the ground, mid air. Kylo looks at it, then at her. “Pick it up.” She makes to use her hands, but at his pointed look she settles back down, hands on her knees, fixing the rock with a pointed look. It rises, slowly, shakily, and falls. It takes several tries for her to get the rock to eye level. When she does, she gives him with a triumphant look. 

Kylo Ren isn’t impressed. It’s basic work - something that should be second nature to someone like her, to someone with that sort of power. He suspects that she’s afraid of her own strength. Knows that if she’s anything like him - and the marks they bear indicate that they’re more alike than not - she’s unsure what to do with herself. 

“Not bad,” he concedes. “But you have much more raw power. You know this. I’ve seen it. So where is it?” 

// 

“So,” Kylo says, and Rey feels herself burning under his gaze, “where is it?”

She swallows. Admittedly, keeping the rock in the air wasn’t taxing; but finding it in her to do it...finding that strength, that was  _ hard. _ It felt like there was a well in her, brimming with energy and power. And if she did more than skim the top, if she peered inside and dared to brave its depths…

She looks at him, and it might be her imagination, but there’s understanding written on his face. “I can feel it inside of me. But I’m - I’m afraid I’ll lose myself if I look.” 

Even as she says that, she’s not sure. The world feels brighter; she feels  _ better, _ as she taps into the Force.  _ And he,  _ she realizes with a pang, _ can’t feel it. _

“You won’t.” The response is quick, sure. “The Force is around you, but it’s also  _ within _ you. Reach out. Reach in. You’ll be unstoppable.”

“That’s the difference between you and me,” Rey says, unsettled by the raw certainty in his eyes. “I don’t need to be unstoppable.”

His lip curls in the beginnings of a snarl, but he stops suddenly. “Do you hear that?” 

“What do you -”

“Shh! Listen.” 

Rey rolls her eyes, but keeps her mouth shut. In the distance she can hear the rumble of jet engines. She lowers her voice. “It sounds like ships. They’re probably doing a drill.”

Bu Kylo was squinting at the sky, his mouth drawn into a hard line. “Get cover.”

“What?”

“Get  _ cover, _ ” he barks, jumping up and hauling Rey to her feet. Rey’s skin feels afire at his touch; he doesn’t seem to notice. He runs to the forest line, taking cover among the trees. 

“What is going on?” Rey hisses. Kylo still has his gaze trained on the sky; he watches raptly as half a dozen fighter ships fly in formation overhead.

“It’s probably just a flight drill,” Rey repeats when he doesn’t answer, but looking at his face she isn’t so sure. His eyes are wild and fearful, and something inexplicable makes her want to take his hand...

She shoves the feeling away and refuses to examine it further. 

Kylo shakes his head. Those are First Order ships.” 

Rey follows his gaze. The ships are already too distant to make out any insignia. “How can you tell? I can’t see anything.” 

“I was a commander for years,” he murmurs. “I know what they sound like. How they fly.” His tone leaves little room for argument. “Are you alone on the planet?” 

“I just repair droids,” Rey falters. “I don’t know much about the...logistics. I was set to leave for Luke when you...arrived.” 

Kylo grunts in reply. He still has her wrist in his grasp; it wouldn’t take much for Rey to pull her hand away, and yet…

The initial shock of his touch fades and is replaced now by a steady thrum. She stands close enough to him that their shoulders brush. It’s almost comforting to feel him so close; Rey feels at peace, safe, even though they weren’t in any real danger...

At that realization, Rey jerks back.  “I’m sure of it,” he said. “Rey, they First Order - they have to know. Or at least suspect.  _ Especially _ if the Resistance is the only thing on this planet…come on. I have to talk to Holdo.” 

* * *

Kylo storms into the Vice Admiral’s office, and Rey feels helpless to stop him. If it really  _ was _ a First Order squadron, then they should take action; but if it weren’t…

Rey can’t help the little seed of doubt in her mind.  _ What if he’s lying to stir up chaos? _

But that had been genuine fear in his eyes.  _ But why would he care? _

“Admiral,” he says, voice sharp. “We need to talk.”

Admiral Holdo narrows her eyes. She’s sitting at her desk, several holoscreens open in front of her. “Kylo Ren,” she greets cooly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Rey almost - almost - winces at the tone. Kylo doesn't seem to care. He plants himself before her desk and says, “I need a map of this planet. Population density, topography, cities -  _ now. _ ”

Rey doubts that Holdo was going to allow that; keeping Kylo deliberately in the dark about their location had been part of her plan. Without access to their coordinates or any GPS technology, he’d have no way of knowing. 

“Rey,” Holdo says, with a small smile in her direction. “Could you give Kylo and I some privacy?” 

Normally Rey likes the Vice Admiral; she’s been nothing but kind and professional to her. But then - pinned under her icy blue gaze - Rey was more than a little intimidated. 

She nods. “I’ll, uh, be just outside then.” She gestures to the bracelet on her wrist; Holdo nods, and Rey scurries away. 

* * *

Ten minutes later, Kylo storms out of the office. Rey looks up from picking the dirt out from under her nails, took one look at his murderous expression, and says, “Didn’t go well?”

“She just signed our death warrant,” he growls.

Rey’s eyebrows shot up. “Let’s go to the caf,” she suggests. “I’m hungry.”

Kylo follows her, seething all the way. “She knows. She  _ knows _ that the First Order is on this planet. She says that what they’re doing is an intimidation tactic to try and flush them out. She doesn't get it. The First Order’s idea of intimidation is to wipe out an entire  _ system. _ ” 

There’s a beat of silence. Rey swallows. “Maybe Holdo knows what she’s doing.” 

“For your sake,” he says, “I hope so.”

* * *

The next morning, Rey escorts him to the med bay for his weekly dose of the Force-suppressing drug. Kylo’s mood is thoroughly soured: between Holdo’s disbelief and having to get the injection, he’s already over the day.

He cannot help the sense of agitation. He actively escaped the First Order; death had been a better alternative than to stay. And part of him knows that Snoke would not rest until he could capture his former apprentice. Kylo would live the rest of his life with a bounty on his head - providing he even  _ had _ a rest of his life. He’d been in Resistance custody for about a month, and nobody had told him about his fate. At first, he thought that his survival was contingent on Rey; now, he’s not so sure. 

_ It doesn't look like they’re going to execute me, _ he muses.  _ And I doubt they’d give me over to the First Order. Not without a surrender, at any rate. _

But First Order ships flying in Resistance airspace only meant one thing: their base was discovered. 

Kylo grits his teeth. Holdo had refused to show him maps, refused to tell him their coordinates, and had dismissed him from her office without a second glance. He doesn’t want to dwell on why he’s so concerned with the Resistance’s safety, doesn’t want to examine his urgency too closely - he noticed how quick he’d been to prioritize Rey’s safety yesterday. How urgently he’d reacted. 

When they’re almost at the med bay, Rey says, “Are you...are you sure that you saw First Order hips the other day.” 

“Yes. I know how they work. It’s likely that they know you’re here.” He couldn’t be certain - not without knowing where in the galaxy they were, not without knowing if there were any First Order contacts around - but he doesn’t want to risk what being wrong would mean. “Holdo has trusted my word this far. I don’t understand why she’s refusing to listen now.” 

Rey glances away, but says nothing. 

Normally, she waits outside the room when he gets his injections. Today, she follows him in. When the nurse - a young man named Kodi - arrives, Rey greets him with a warm smile. Kylo feels a pang in his chest - it’s stupid, it makes no sense, but…

But Rey has never smiled at  _ him _ like that. 

“Can I do it?” she asks sweetly, drawing him out of his rumination. “I mean, it makes sense that I should learn, right? Especially if this is going to be a long-term practice.” 

Kodi seems taken aback, but he aquiesces. “Swab the skin with rubbing alcohol first,” he instructs, “And make sure there are no air bubbles in the syringe.” It might be Kylo’s imagination, but it sounds like there’s a flirtatious lilt to his voice. 

Rey smiles at him. “I’ll take it from here. Thanks so much.”

Syringe and swabs in hand, she walks over to where Kylo is sitting on the table.She moves to his right side and stands slightly behind him. Kylo frowns.  _ What are you doing? _

She glances up to him, as if to say,  _ trust me, _ and empties the contents of the syringe into the material of his shirt, quickly wiping away any excess with the gauze in her hand. The sharp chemical smell of it burns his nostrils.  

“How do I get rid of this?” Rey asks, and Kodi shows her where the needle bin is, and Kylo tries to process what had just happened.  _ Rey - she - what is she doing? _

“Why not have droids do it?” Rey asks. Kylo sits up, grateful that the dark color of his short would hide any stain. 

“A droid can be reprogrammed,” the nurse says, with a wary glance in Kylo’s direction. “It’s one of the few situations where human supervision is superior.”

It takes every fiber of Kylo’s being not to laugh. 

* * *

Rey feels like her heart is going to beat out of her chest the entire walk back to Kylo’s quarters. What she’d just done - gods, that was either the height of stupidity or something that will save their skins. She can hardly believe it. She clenches her hands to keep them from shaking.

Kylo unlocks his door and gestures for her to follow him inside. His room is neat, his clothes folded on top of his dresser, his bed made. Rey doesn’t know why she’s surprised; he’s never struck her as messy.  

Once the door closes behind them, he pounces. 

“What did you - why -  _ Rey - _ ”

“You’re welcome,” she says, swallowing. 

He blinks at her. “Why? And - one minute. This reeks.” 

He walks to his dresser and peels off his shirt, revealing the mark between his sculpted shoulder blades. Rey averts her eyes, a blush forming on her cheeks.  _ Don’t. Stare. _

He tugs on another shirt and tosses the other one in his laundry basket. “ _ Why?” _ His eyes are bright and earnest and raw, and Rey’s breath catches in her throat when she meets them. 

“I believe you,” she says. “About the ships. Even if Holdo doesn’t. And if you’re right…” she trails off. She doesn’t tell him about how using the Force had felt. About how the world seemed to right itself once she tapped into it. “If you’re right, we need you in peak fighting condition. If something goes wrong…”

“Right,” he says flatly. He runs a hand through his hair. “If I can’t defend myself, and something happens to me, you might die. Or worse.”

Rey opens her mouth to protest, closes it. She hadn’t even thought of that. “Just - if something happens - if you’re right - it’s better to be prepared.” 

“And if I’m wrong?” he takes a step closer. “If I’m wrong, and there’s no threat…”

The question hangs in the air: will she keep throwing out his injections? Will she allow him to have his connection to the Force?

Rey fixes him with a hard look. “Don’t make me regret it.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kylo's gettin' a lil jealous, oooh...
> 
> Comments are love <3

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think!


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